


Emotional Intelligence

by rebaobsessions



Series: Crossover Attempts [11]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Pre-Canon, android!patton, human!logan, set year 2030-2032
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebaobsessions/pseuds/rebaobsessions
Summary: Logan was a genius. Everyone said so. He was also the most self sufficient 12-year-old you would ever meet, and he was very happy with that--thank you very much. If there was one thing he did not want, it was an android.Thankfully, things don't quite go his way.(This is the first installment in a 5-part series.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No one here on AO3 is aware, but I am a huge fander, and I have been for a while. Not that long ago, the fanders I follow on Tumblr started reblogging posts about D:BH and I got curious... and I fell in love with the concept, the art, and the characters. And so! I bring you my first ever fanfic addition to the Sanders Sides fandom!  
> [Here is the original headcanon post I made for this AU.](https://reba-andthesides.tumblr.com/post/175352260844/detroit-become-human-sanders-sides-au-this-is-all/)  
> Please feel free to come yell at me [@reba-andthesides](https://reba-andthesides.tumblr.com/) or my main [@rebaobsessions](https://rebaobsessions.tumblr.com/). You can find all of my fanfiction at [@rebaobsessivelywrites](https://rebaobsessivelywrites.tumblr.com/) too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first section of this part. It kinda grew out of control.  
> I expect 3 chapters total, presently.

Logan Sanders was a genius. That was not a boast, just a simple statement of fact. Logan himself had never stated the fact, but he had heard it more times than he could count. His parents, his teachers, his classmates and peers—they all commented on his intelligence, in one form or another. It was obvious to him that it was true, but sometimes he wished they’d stop. Especially the children. Over time he had become desensitized to all forms of the observation, but it had been difficult in the beginning, when he began to skip grades.

He was now, at the age of 12, enrolled in the equivalent coursework of a junior in high school, although he was ‘homeschooled’. That term was rather insufficient, considering he was mostly self-taught, but it was as honest as his parents would allow. He had no problem with that, however; if he told the truth, other adults would panic about supervision and guidance and proper care… and that simply would not do. He was, for all intents and purposes, already an adult himself and wanted nothing to do with the constraints normally placed upon children his age.

Logan was self-sufficient. He got up on his own, obtained his own sustenance, dictated his own schedule, kept his room tidy, and ensured his laundry and trash were placed in the proper locations on the designated days. As long as he told his mother’s assistant where he was when he left the house, he was left to his own devices. It was a suitable arrangement. He may be more isolated than the average 12-year-old, but his autonomy was far more valuable than fleeting childish connections. After all, he could clearly remember what it was like before his parents pulled him from the traditional education system. It had been a… displeasing experience, and one he would prefer to avoid repeating.

So, he went about is business, comfortable in his routine and isolation, uncaring of his parents’ absence or the strangely empty feeling that would follow him through the empty hallways in his luxurious family home. (It was simply quiet— peaceful. That was the only logical conclusion.) He was _content_. That was all that mattered.

But now, out of the blue, his parents were suddenly no longer satisfied leaving him to himself. He was getting a _babysitter_. Sure, it was an android, not an actual person who could risk his precious freedom, but it was infuriating all the same. Now, of course that’s not what they _told_ him. They were buying him an “assistant” to help him “manage” his studies and daily life… but it was a _babysitter_. A machine meant to cater to his every need. He didn’t want that! He could do it himself, hadn’t he already proved that?

Logan could remember when he had first heard about androids. He had been around five years old when he picked up a stray technology magazine and read about the extraordinary RT600, a humanoid android that had publicly passed the Turing Test, proving an extraordinary capability to mimic human conversation. Following that discovery, Logan had idolized the inventor Elijah Kamski and obsessed over biomechanics for _years_ , carefully following the development of CyberLife’s groundbreaking technology, starting with the release of the first commercial model, the ST200. The world was blown away, hundreds sold despite the model’s staggering price, and Logan was _thrilled_ to occasionally see a humanoid machine with a LED glowing blue on their right temple. Over time, sightings became more and more common. By 2027, just after Logan turned nine, CyberLife had streamlined their android production and released the JB100; it cost a fraction of previous models, dropping to only four figures. Sales skyrocketed, and it became more common to see the extraordinary machines on the streets with their owners.

The company had only improved in the three years since, adding features and dropping prices constantly. Sales continued to increase and androids became analogous to cars (expensive but _extremely_ useful) throughout the city of Detroit and (Logan presumed) the world. Logan found every new model and feature _extraordinary_ and awe-inspiring. When his father bought a secretary android a few months before his twelfth birthday, he had been _fascinated_ to examine it and admire the craftsmanship and remarkable programing.

That did not, however, mean that he _wanted_ one!

Logan valued his independence. He _liked_ doing mundane tasks and taking care of himself. It proved that he was more than just a _brain_ , that he was capable and functional despite his obvious lack of social aptitude. He ran his own life and he was _good_ at it. An android was meant to care for it’s owner, handling tasks like cooking, cleaning, and scheduling so the human could “get more out of life.” Logan _loved_ technology, but having a personal android went against _everything_ he wanted.

He found, as he descended the elegant darkly stained wood staircase in his house’s entryway, that he felt like he was going to the slaughter. The decision had been made before he had even been told about it and no matter what argument he presented, his parents had _insisted_. And now his android was _here_ , and his parents were officially killing his independence.

“Logan!” his mother’s excited voice cut through his somber reflection as he stepped into the entryway itself, the soft carpet giving beneath his shoes. She was standing next to a human-sized box and an exhausted looking uniformed technician, her eyes gleaming, “Come on, lets get it activated for you!”

Logan cautiously approached the pair, giving his mother a strained smile before resituating his glasses and pasting an expression that hopefully passed for friendly. “Salutations,” he turned to the technician and attempted to hide his displeasure at the situation, “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to come here in person.”

The haggard looking man gave him a wry smile, “Not a problem, kid, it’s part of the job.” Before Logan could decide if he should take offence at the term, he turned to pop open the box, “This will only take a few moments, and I’ll get out of your hair so you can enjoy your new toy.”

Staring at the back of the man’s head, Logan felt his lips twitch downward into a frown. Androids weren’t _toys_. They were efficient, cutting-edge, and extraordinary machines. He found himself almost disturbed at the implication— that this man had activated androids for children who intended to use them as _toys_. His inner inventor was downright _offended_! His brows furrowed and his frown deepened slightly as the technician unwrapped the android, muttering something under his breath, but Logan instantly realized his mistake; he caught his mother giving him a sharp look out of the corner of his eye and quickly pasted a smile back onto his face before the man turned around.

“Alright, this’ll only take a few moments,” the technician moved back so that he was even with both Logan and his mother, before turning back towards the android. It was of average height with light mousy brown hair about two inches long and one of the more standard face shapes for caretaker androids, however it’s skin module was obviously special order— it was a light tone, slightly tanned, covered in hundreds of freckles. Logan couldn’t help but feel slightly betrayed by his mother; she _knew_ that he had wanted freckles when he was younger. His own skin tone had always been horribly pale, certainly not aided by his dislike of outdoor activities, and he hated how it contrasted with his stark black hair.

“HK400, confirm voice recognition,” the man commanded, breaking through Logan’s thoughts.

The android’s eyes flicked open, revealing eyes just as startlingly blue as the LED on its right temple. It blinked once, twice, “Voice recognition confirmed.”

“Good. HK400, perform a system check.”

Its LED indicator flashed blue, indicating rapid mental processing, before it gave a bright smile—its first facial expression—and happily announced, “Everything is working perfectly.”

The technician gave a small smile, and glanced at Logan, “You have a name for it, kid?” Logan, caught completely off guard, wasn’t certain what look he had on his face, but it must have been answer enough because the tech simply gave him an amused look and turned back to the bot, “HK400, postpone name identification.”

The android nodded, the picture of geniality, “I am HK400.”

“Alright, HK400, these are your owners, Sarah and Logan Sanders. Understood?” the technician gestured towards his captive audience. Logan’s mother smiled warmly at the man, but Logan himself was transfixed watching the machine in front on him, his light brown eyes wide and searching.

“Of course!” it beamed, skin stretching in complete realism and accentuating the dusting of dark dots over the bridge of its nose.

Logan tilted his head in fascination, watching as its vibrant blue eyes flicked back and forth, following the movements of the technician and Logan’s mother as they wrapped up business. He became so engrossed in just _observing_ that he didn’t realize the man had left until his mother embraced him unexpectedly from behind, jolting him from his peaceful state of non-thought and causing his spine to go rigid.

“I know you didn’t like the idea when your father and I brought it up… but _look_ at it Logie! Isn’t it amazing?” she gave him a squeeze, “Just imagine everything it’ll do for you!”

Logan desperately inhaled through his nose, swallowing the bitter sensation rising in the back of his throat. For one terrible moment, he was _furious_ beyond belief. He wanted to rip himself out of his mother’s arms, storm up the stairs and slam the door to his room. He wanted to yell and kick and scream until his face was red and his shins were bruised… but he sucked it down. Such impulses were childish and pointless; he was better than that.

He forced a smile back onto his face, refocused his eyes on the android—whose eyebrows were creased as it gazed down at the pair—and turned stiffly to face his mother. She reluctantly let go and smiled warmly in return, before clasping the side of his face (unknowingly setting off another internal struggle as the 12-year-old fought the urge to jerk away) and pushing his glasses back up his nose.

Seemingly satisfied, she straightened, tugging at the bottom of her suit jacket, and turned her attention to the new machine, “HK400, you will take care of Logan, make sure he’s healthy, and do anything he asks.”

It smiled warmly again, “Yes, Mrs. Sanders.”

“Good.” She glanced down at her son, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Logan kept the smile on his face until his mother disappeared down the hallway to her office, before sagging. Running a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew, the 12-year-old turned to peer back up at the android. It was standing exactly where it had been last time he looked, with the exact same expression on its face. It was rather unsettling how statue-like it appeared.

“What can I do to help, Logan?” it asked brightly.

Logan could tell that was going to get old really quickly. “I do everything myself,” he crossed his arms, “I didn’t want an android.”

The HK400 gave him a sympathetic look, “I’m very sorry your parents went against your wishes.”

“It’s not…” he squeezed his eyes shut, “not your fault. Just. Don’t… interfere with my routine or start doing everything for me, alright?”

“Of course, Logan,” it agreed easily, “Just let me know if I overstep your boundaries.”

Logan’s lips twitched downward and his eyes flew open to stare at the machine; he didn’t know what he had expected, but for some reason he hadn’t expected easy agreement. He didn’t know _why_ —it was an _android!_ Of _course_ , it agreed with him. That was what it was programmed to do. But, as he examined the crinkled freckles, brilliant white smile, shining blue eyes and matching LED… he couldn’t fathom why his chest felt heavy.

* * *

A week later, Logan was settling into a new routine, one that was not as horrible as he had expected. Yes, he did fewer chores and he rarely obtained his own sustenance, but he had almost double the amount of time to spend studying and exploring avenues of academic interest. It had been wonderful! He was almost complete with his Calculus course and was preparing to start his next math course (Calculus 2).

Although… he could do without the HK400 hovering over him, harping about optimum sleep cycles and hydration and nourishment—he already knew all of that! He just… well, didn’t do as good of a job on his own as he thought. It was just so easy to get lost in his books. It had been strange, at first, having his work flow interrupted unexpectedly for such necessities, but after seven whole days he was almost used to the bot’s presence and was learning to tolerate its more annoying qualities in favor of the benefits it clearly provided.

“Are you lonely?” (Speak of the devil…)

Logan was sitting in one of his favorite spots in the house, perched on a windowsill overlooking the small garden in the backyard, when the voice broke through his thoughts. Caught off guard, he blinked blindly at the book in his hands a few times before glancing up. Standing in the doorway to the room was the HK400 unit, its face crinkled in something that resembled concern and its head tilted curiously to the side. For a moment, Logan was dumb founded at how _human_ it looked, with its vibrant blue eyes almost glowing with emotion. After several seconds, however, where the android stood perfectly unmoving showing no reaction to the lack of response, he was able to shake of the knee-jerk reaction and turn his attention to the question it had asked.

“No,” he finally pronounced, pushing his glasses back into place, “No, I’m not lonely.”

If it was possible, the HK400’s brow creased even farther, its LED changing from blue to yellow, “Are you sure? You’re always alone—over the past week, I haven’t seen you interact with anyone but your parents, and even those interactions have been brief and distant.”

Logan frowned at the concern somehow lacing the android’s voice. “Just because I am alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely,” he explained as firmly as he could. After a beat, the machine’s LED stopped flashing yellow and its face smoothed out slightly. Logan nodded to himself, taking that to mean it would cease its line of questioning, and turned back to his book.

However, it persisted, “Logan, as you know I was made to care for whoever my owner might be. That means I know a bunch when it comes to human health.”

Logan looked back up, a frown once again plastered across his face—both at the strangely colloquial wording and utter bafflement at the android’s goal. “I am aware.” The android shifted under his gaze in manner that seemed… _uncomfortable_? Logan stared as it lifted a shoulder in an aborted shrug, lips twitching upwards in a half smile he was sure would mean more to him if he knew anything about body language. (And what did it say about him that an _android_ was better than him with the nuances of human expression?)

“Humans need social interaction,” it stated, ignorant to Logan’s internal crisis, “ _You_ need social interaction.” Logan wasn’t aware that he had opened his mouth until the HK400 raised a hand as though to stop him. “I know you don’t want to play like other children, but there are other things you can do… and as your caretaker, I _have_ to advise you do _something_.”

Logan squeezed his eyes shut and heaved a sigh, finally giving in and shutting his book, though he kept his finger in it to mark his place. “Look, I’ll admit I’ve appreciated your assistance more than I anticipated. It has been beneficial to my studies to not be responsible for every meal and chore necessary to sustain my lifestyle, but I stand by the boundaries I gave you a week ago. I do not want you to affect my way of life.”

“And I won’t,” it immediately insisted, LED shining a steady blue, “so long as it doesn’t go against my primary mission—your wellbeing.”

“HK400—”

“A walk,” it interrupted him, “Just once a week, go out into public and at least _see_ other people. Please.”

For a long moment, the room echoed in silence and they stared at each other, human and machine, both attempting to understand the other. Logan’s light brown eyes searched those of his android, finding nothing but honest concern and determination, and he sagged. For that moment, at least, he didn’t care if that emotion was real or merely a feat of programming.

“Fine,” he sighed, setting his book aside, “One walk.” He would humor the android. He could, after all, spare the time now.

The HK400 unit beamed at him, his face and eyes lighting up, “Thank you.”

Logan sat there staring at the doorway for a long time after the android left, attempting to decipher the unanticipated behavior he was witnessing in the machine and resolutely ignoring the bizarre sensation in his chest.

(It felt suspiciously like hope.)

* * *

Logan was reasonably certain he had just experienced a perfect day, or at least as perfect as feasibly possible. He had spent his morning reading _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley and several research articles relating to a tangential interest in genetics, before his HK400 unit herded him out of the house for his second weekly walk. Unlike last week, the android insisted he go to the park it recommended, and Logan certainly ended up thankful he had listened; the park was equipped with chess tables and a surprising number of players.

Needless to say, Logan’s walk lasted about three hours longer than planned.

“Well, I’ll be!” Logan’s current opponent leant to offer a hand over the table, “Third time in a row! Well done, ki—” he cut himself off and gave a wry shake of his head, “I mean, Logan.”

After a moment of hesitation, Logan accepted the handshake, “Thank you, Mr. Stokes. It’s been a pleasure.”

The man gave a warm smile, the worn creases around his eyes crinkling, “Likewise.”

“Logan,” a voice that was growing familiar sounded from just behind him, “We might want to head home soon. Dinner is at 6.”

For a second Logan was confused—although the HK400 attempted to keep his meals and sleep on a schedule, it wasn’t typically that strict. As he frowned to himself, the android moved to stand beside him. It had its normal warm smile plastered across its face and its LED was a bright blue that accentuated its eyes in a way that continued to fascinate Logan.

“It’s Friday today,” it prompted helpfully.

Realization and dread swept over him. He had forgotten. His parents were having a _dinner party_ , and he was, of course, required to attend. Their precious little genius. Logan couldn’t help letting out a huge sigh, swiping a hand over his face. Well. There went his perfect day.

“Oh, well I take that to mean you need to get out of here,” Mr. Stokes chuckled a little.

“Yes, that is correct,” Logan muttered, indulging briefly in his frustration before pulling himself together and smiling politely, “Thank you again.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, kid,” he waved him off, “Like I said, it’s my pleasure. I know I speak for the others when I say you and your tin can are welcome here whenever.”

Logan chose to overlook the demeaning nickname the chess player had let slip and gave him a genuine smile as he stood, Mr. Stokes following his example. They shook hands a final time and Mr. Stokes wandered off to find another partner while Logan set off home with his android. Despite the direction he was headed, Logan couldn’t help smiling. He had enjoyed his day and he wasn’t going to let it be ruined by a dinner.

“Do you think they’ll be here next week?” the HK400 examined him intently from its spot at his side, blue LED flashing.

“Well,” Logan shrugged, his smile growing at the thought of repeating today’s experience, “that’s anybody’s guess.”

The android grinned, “Don’t you mean it’s anybody’s _chess_?”

“Did you just—” he stopped mid stride and turned to stare at the android.

The HK400 froze, its smile fading slightly and its LED flashing yellow. “I’m sorry, Logan,” it turned back to him, widening its smile again and looking earnest, “what did I do?”

Logan stood there and simply stared up at the machine, examining its face to the best of his meager ability. Ever since it was activated, it seemed different. It kept doing things Logan had no idea androids _could_ do, and it was always so… emotional and expressive and _baffling_.

And now it was looking at him with an expression so obviously fake that _Logan_ could tell. Well—it helped that its LED was rapidly flashing yellow, but the point was still valid! There was something _off_ in its expression; he wasn’t quite sure what was hidden underneath the false cheer and all too real concern, but it unsettled him.

“Nothing,” Logan shook his head and started walking again, “You didn’t do anything.” Out of the corner of his eye, Logan clearly saw the HK400 sag in relief.

What, exactly, was going on with his android?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Pun Powerups and HK400 gets a name :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has a panic attack, and HK400 ups his pun game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! If anyone knows me with my other work, you know I'm horrible at updating. I hope this was worth the wait!  
> Logan has a panic attack, btw, and the whole it/he stuff is on purpose.  
> Let me know what you think!

One dinner, Logan could handle. Two? Sure. A day at an event? Well, he could suck it up. But a _weekend_? Three days spent being paraded around like a prize pony, passed from important person to important person… he just _couldn’t_.

His parents had sprung the surprise on him Thursday, just after his fourth visit to the chess park. The following morning, they packed up and left bright and early, caught a plane, and were plunged directly into the chaos of politics and high-class socialization. There were dinners and events and lectures every hour of the day, it seemed, as Logan was expected to attend every event either of his parents had been invited to. That meant breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with politicians and scientists and lobbyists and CEOs and everyone in between, with added lectures and meetings.

Logan didn’t understand it all, but he understood a _lot_ and the people his parents met with were always _so impressed_ by him and his parents loved to use that to their advantage. And, well, it _was_ interesting. He _did_ enjoy the science and finance and that sort of thing, but… he wasn’t used to that many people. This was the first time his parents had asked him to be so involved in one of these symposiums when _both_ of them were attending, and it was absolutely excruciating.

He got about five hours to himself each day, but two of those were from waking up at 5 am and two were spent hiding in the corner of some hotel or event center, desperately trying to center himself before the next event. He was used to _maybe_ 3 or 4 hours _with_ people a day, and that _used_ to be only 1 hour or so with his _parents_ before he started visiting the park a couple times a week. So _this_? This was overwhelming.

It was the third and final day, and Logan was certain the only reason he had made it this far was his android. Three weeks ago, he would have never believed that he would become irreparably attached to the thing, but now he was seriously wondering what he would do with out h—it. Beyond its now integral role in his daily life, the HK400 had been a godsend throughout the weekend, carefully monitoring Logan and swooping in at the best possible times with various excuses—he hadn’t eaten enough vegetables, he needed to spend 15 more minutes in the sun in order to absorb the proper amount of vitamin D, he hadn’t slept sufficiently and needed to go to bed early, etc—that bought him a couple minutes, at least, to regroup. It kept him _sane_.

But even with that crucial aid, it was _too much_. He had been at lunch (again) when he had been cornered and interrogated by a curious stranger (again) and he just _couldn’t_. He couldn’t stand another minute in that room; he couldn’t _think_ or even _breathe_! So he fled. He didn’t manage to do much more than mutter a few apologies before he was on his way out of the ballroom and running up the stairs to his room. He fumbled with the electronic key, stumbled into the luxuriant room, and immediately collapsed, bracing himself against the wall and struggling to breathe.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, hunched over, before he finally caught his breath and stopped feeling like he was drowning, but once he did a wave of overwhelming shame crashed into him stealing his breath in a completely different way. Why had he left? He shouldn’t have done that! What were his parents going to say? He was a horrible son. _Horrible_ …

A quiet knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts and made him jump. As he frantically picked himself up off the ground and attempted to make himself presentable, he realized that he had be crying. He scraped the sleeve of his suit over his cheeks and cleared his throat, “Yes?”

“It’s just me, Logan,” the last voice he was expecting but the first voice he _should_ have expected echoed through the door, “Can I come in, kiddo?”

“HK400,” Logan protested, just as he had every time since the android had started using that _awful_ nickname. The only blessing was he never used it around other people.

The HK400 obviously took his response as permission as the locking mechanism gave a telltale click and the droid slid into the room with hi— _its_ key card. It had its near constant smile already plastered across its face as it carefully moved closer, giving him a concerned once over. “How are you, Logan? What can I do to help?”

“I’m fine,” Logan shook his head and pasted his smile back on, “I just… forgot something,” he finished lamely.

The android gave him the most unimpressed look he had ever seen—not just on it, but on _anyone_ —and for a moment Logan very much felt like the 12-year-old he was. “We both know that’s not true,” it pointed out softly, “You don’t need to hide from me, Logan. I won’t tell _anyone_. I promise.”

Logan stood there for a long moment, taking in the steady blue LED that shone brightly in the muffled daylight of the hotel room, and the matching earnest blue eyes. “I know,” he almost whispered, “I just—” His voice broke and a hand flew to his mouth of its own accord. Breathing through his nose, he swallowed hard and did his best to force down the tears.

The HK400 stood as still as a statue, as though he was attempting not to startle a wild animal, a concerned look still plastered across his face. For some reason, the steady unassuming silence calmed Logan down even more.

“I can’t,” he choked out after a minute that felt like an eternity. His entire body was trembling, and Logan was just so _frustrated_ with himself. He was angry and guilty and so very sad… He felt like his world was crumbling around him, but that was completely _illogical_ —he was fine! He needed to piece himself back together and rejoin his parents, that was _it_.

The android gave him a pained look of understanding and stepped closer, as though preparing to physically help and… that was it. The dam broke open again and Logan let out a painful sob that shook his entire body. It was followed by another and another, and he was shaking harder and harder. His knees gave out on him but before he could do more than start to tip, he was suddenly surrounded by a pair of powerful arms, pulled in close to a solid chest. The android had knelt in front of him and was nestling him close and rubbing his back… “Let it out, Logan,” he murmured, “It’s ok, just let it all out. I’ve got you.”

Logan did.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent in his android’s arms, soaking his uniform with tears, but after some indeterminant period he stopped shaking and the android slowly loosened his hold on him. “Hey, Logan?” he murmured against his hair, “How does NASA organize a party?”

Brows furrowing in confusion, Logan pulled away to frown at his caretaker in confusion, “What?”

The HK400 gave him a crooked smile, “They planet.”

Logan felt his eyes, which were no doubt red from all the crying he had been doing, widen comically. His android had just told a _joke_. … _Why??_ The experience had become more common since the bot had slipped up in the park over a week previously, but it still baffled Logan to no end every time, and this was by far the most blatant occurrence yet.

“What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?” he—it asked in the same tone of voice, that was almost _mischievous._

“What? No, that’s,” Logan shook his head, “There’s _nothing_ … I mean, maybe an _orange_ parrot, but—”

“A carrot!” it exclaimed before letting out a delighted little giggle.

Logan stopped to stare again, forgetting to close his mouth in the process. He was still baffled and dumbfounded, but he was also thankful that the android wasn’t immediately retreating and making excuses like he had a few times in the past.

“Come on,” he— _it_ — smiled warmly and stood, offering him a hand, “Let’s move to the table. It’ll be more comfortable for the _chair_ of us.”

Still stunned from the last joke, Logan couldn’t do more than accept and let himself be led to the small round table that was equipped with two chairs and a small coffee setup—including a coffee maker and all the proper accoutrements. It was currently piled with everything Logan had gathered from the lectures he had enjoyed over the past two days, but neither of them cared about the clutter. (HK400 was most certainly bothered by it, but he didn’t press the issue and was clearly preoccupied at the moment.)

As Logan sat down, however, he wobbled slightly on his still unsteady knees and accidentally knocked several papers off the table. His android immediately bent to collect them, a faint smile still playing on its lips. When he straightened and set the collection of articles and book recommendations back where they belonged, Logan was still staring—no doubt with a slack jawed look.

The HK400’s lips twitched slightly. A moment later, he lost the battle and a broad grin stretched across his face, “Aw, you ok there, Logan?” he teased gently, pushing the article on the top of the pile towards him, “Do you need a _patent_ the back?

Once again, Logan was completely lost, “…you mean… a _pat_ _on_ the back?” After a moment of confusion, however, he glanced down at the paper the android had pushed towards him. It was an article he had picked up on his first day, when he had been attending an informative lecture on the legal bounds of patents with his father…. The article was an overview of every type of patent the government authorized, complete with examples. His eyes widened in realization. _Patent._

The android reached over the pile of papers and fished a pink packet out of the coffee service station. “I’m not _sugar_ ,” he said almost contemplatively, waving it at Logan, “what do you _pink_?”

Logan let out a soft groan and leant his head forward into his hands. Despite his actions, however, there was a smile floating at the corner of his mouth. “Your mispronunciation of words… is meant to have a comedic effect,” he muttered, “But I am not certain how I feel about your attempts.”

“No, no, Logan,” the android grinned cheekily at him, “Its mispro- _pun_ -ciation!”

Logan gave him his best glare, but it failed miserably thanks to the laughter that bubbled up in in throat and slipped past his lips. The HK400 observed his reaction with unadulterated glee, letting his own laughter join. The sound of the android giggling like a little kid set Logan off even more, and soon he was caught in a downright hysteric bought of belly-deep laughter. He nearly fell out of his chair before the android managed to settle himself down enough to catch him.

Just like before, with his uncontrollable sobbing, Logan was unsure how long he spent laughing himself silly, but eventually it passed. He spent a few moments after it finally died off gasping for breath and examining his android, who was fast becoming something akin to a friend. He was sitting in the chair opposite from Logan now, grinning dopily—almost like laughter was a drug to him. The sight of the content expression on the bot’s face made Logan smile again.

“HK400,” he started, before stopping, stumbling over his own tongue. That sounded so _wrong._ HK400… was a type of android. It seemed illogical to continue to insist on calling him—it… whatever!—something so generic and impersonal, not to mention a mouthful. If the past three weeks had shown him _anything_ , it was that the HK400 was possibly the best thing that had _ever_ happened to him. It —hell— _he_ didn’t _deserve_ that.

“Logan?” the bot asked in concern, breaking through his thoughts.

Logan shook himself and smiled up at him, “Sorry, I was just thinking that HK400 is a rather big mouthful.” The android simply frowned down at him, a hopeful but baffled expression on his face. Logan self-consciously straightened his glasses, “I mean, it would be more, uh.. _logical_ to call you something more… unique?”

“Are you,” the bot hesitated, his LED flashing rapidly and his eyes growing wide, “asking me to register a name?”

Logan swallowed hard, “Uh, yeah, I… I think I am.”

His LED flashed yellow once before it settled to a more certain blue. “That… I’d like that,” the HK400 unit smiled softly, “Who am I, Logan?”

Logan paused at the wording, examining the android, “In all honesty, I think only you are capable of answering that question.”

“I don’t… understand,” confusion creased his eyebrows, although his smile didn’t waver.

The young genius shook his head softly, “That’s for another day. But I truly don’t know what to call you.”

“No?” the android asked curiously, thankfully showing no offence.

“No,” he confirmed, “I’m sorry, I should have thought this through more…”

“Don’t be,” he held up his hand, still grinning brightly, “You’ll think of something.”

“I’m not so sure,” Logan couldn’t help giving a self-deprecating shrug, looking down at where his hands rested on the table. He wasn’t creative, and giving his android a name was such a _big_ thing…

After a beat of silence, the article on patents was pushed to brush against his fingers. He glanced up to find the HK400 smiling mischievously at him again, “Well, that’s _patently_ absurd!”

Logan groaned, lips twitching without his consent, “Are you ever going to stop now?”

“ _Pat-ain’t_ likely!” he chuckled warmly, looking proud of himself.

Logan smiled ruefully and shook his head slightly. This new attitude his android was displaying was _annoying,_ but it also…. It was _nice._ And the puns were… interesting, or at least _creative_ that’s for sure.

A thought occurred to him, eyes widening unseeingly. “Pat…” he murmured.

“What?” the android shifted forward slightly “Are you ok, Logan?” Logan’s eyes snapped back into focus to find his caretaker’s LED cycling yellow. “Do you need another _patent_ the back?”

“Sorry,” he smiled reassuringly before his eyebrows drew together in concentration, “Just… Your name. What about Pat… something. Patrick?” As soon as the name left his mouth he wrinkled his nose in distaste, “No.”

The android leant forward eagerly, resting a hand on each of Logan’s and smiling encouragingly. Logan returned the smile and carefully regarded the machine he had come to care for. He _really_ wanted to get this right; a name helped a person define their sense of self, and for _him_ it was so much more important because he had existed for almost a month fully cognizant _without_ one. In the beginning that didn’t seem to be a problem, but now… he —and the android was definitely not an _it_ , not if Logan was honest with himself— was so _clearly_ capable of independent thought and it seemed _wrong_ to call him by his model name.

The android gently squeezed Logan’s hands and the 12-year-old’s eyes were drawn down to where they rested on the table… on the _article_. “Pat…ton. Patton.” Logan nodded to himself, lifting his head to observe his android’s reaction.

His soft smile grew to a blinding intensity as he stared at Logan, an emotion the young genius failed to identify shining in his eyes. “Patton,” he murmured, as though testing the word, “I like that.” He giggled, “I could give you a _Patton_ the back whenever I want.”

Logan simply raised his eyebrows at his caretaker; yes, the name was inspired by the pun but was it _really necessary—_

“Or a _Patte_ ,” the newly minted Patton added happily, retrieving a mug from beside the coffee pot on the table.

The genius couldn’t help rolling his eyes a little, lifting his freed hand to adjust his glasses again. “Let’s not push it too far,” he muttered.

The android froze in the middle of his movement, causing Logan to jolt and stare at him in surprise; Patton’s eyebrows were furrowed, his LED spinning yellow.

It took Logan a moment before the reason clicked, but as soon as it did his eyes blew wide and he hurried to correct his mistake, “No, no I don’t…” he shook his head and glanced down, carefully shifting the hand that still rested in Patton’s grip to give him a comforting squeeze. “I mean… I doubt my tolerance— for puns, that is— could possibly withstand your, uh, obvious aptitude for them.”

To the genius’ relief, the android immediately relaxed, tension draining out of his frame, and gave him another blinding smile, “I guess we’ll just have to see, now won’t we?”

Logan hesitantly returned the smile, “If we must… _Patton_.”

The way Patton’s smile grew in response to hearing his new name left a warm feeling in Logan’s chest, leaving him more settled than he had in days. That same warmth, renewed every time Patton smiled, miraculously lasted even as he ventured forth from his room and back into the mire of social expectations. It buoyed him through the remainder of the unpleasant weekend, and left him content and focused for days afterwards.

* * *

Upon their return from the stressful trip, everything returned to normal. Logan resumed his studies, rarely seeing his parents, Patton flitted around the manor, efficiently handling every problem before Logan ever encountered it, and the pair upped their outings to three or four times a week. Logan found himself growing fond of Mr. Stokes and the other chess enthusiasts, who seemed to almost _live_ in the park, and was happy to oblige his android’s incessant herding.

In fact, Logan found he actually appreciated Patton’s constant presence and energy. On one particular occasion, the food delivery service his family used failed to arrive and Patton left to fetch supplies. The young genius was alone for only a few hours, but it had felt like days; without the background noise his energetic android provided, he had simply been unable to focus. Patton had given him the softest smile he had ever seen upon returning to find his grouchy, unfocused charge.

It was much easier to focus on matrices and derivatives when he could hear the android humming idly from just beyond his bedroom doorway.

“Hey, Logan?” the familiar cheerful voice cut through the 12-year-old’s train of thought.

A smile already spreading across his face, he glanced up from his textbook to see his android approaching. Patton gave him a smile in return and lifted an object for observation—a pair of glasses held carefully by the ear pieces, “What are these?”

For a moment Logan just blinked at them; they appeared uncannily like his own, except for the fact that they were obviously too large and no longer held lenses of any variety. That moment was, however, all it took for him to remember and flush a vivid red.

“I was cleaning your room and found them wedged…” Patton trailed off as he glanced up from the object of his curiosity. “Kiddo?” he asked, concern coloring his tone.

“They, ah,” Logan cleared his voice, “They were my father’s. I was, evidently, so fascinated with them that… after he had surgery to fix his vision, he gave them to me.”

“Oh!” the bot exclaimed in delight, returning his attention to his discovery, “That’s nifty.”

Another smile claimed his lips without his consent and he shook his head at the android’s word choice. Patton had grown on him even more over the past few weeks. He seemed to be increasingly comfortable both with himself and with Logan; he only reverted to his initial behavior (what Logan was coming to think of as his ‘pre-programmed’ behavior) when in the presence of others. Even then, he had begun to slip more and more around Logan’s chess partners. The genius received an inordinate amount of pleasure watching their reactions to the android’s unexpected sense of humor.

Logan watched with a similar sense of amusement as Patton, face scrunched up in thought, ever so carefully placed the glasses on his own face. After a moment spent fiddling with them, making them sit more comfortably, he beamed down at Logan, “What d’ya think?”

Even though the frames were very similar to Logan’s, they looked remarkably different on Patton’s face. They seemed… rounder, less rectangular, even though that wasn’t possible, and made Patton’s bright blue eyes look twice as large, despite the absence of lenses.

“They look nice,” he answered honestly, earning beaming smile.

Patton quickly scooted a few feet to the side, so he could see himself in the mirror on Logan’s wall and regard his new accessory with curiosity. After a moment he turned back to Logan, a mischievous smile creeping across his face and setting alarm bells off in Logan’s head, “Well, they are rather… _spectacular_!”

“Patton,” Logan groaned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“Are you doing math?” he asked out of the blue, moving closer to his charge and peering down at his calculus textbook.

“Patton…” Logan muttered in warning. Where he would have been confused a few weeks ago, he was now merely suspicious, eyeing his android carefully, “don’t—”

Patton merely grinned, “You might need some new glasses to help with that di _vision_!”

“Ugh,” he huffed, burying his face—glasses and all—into his hands.

The android just giggled, moving to perch on a nearby chair and removing the black frames from his face. Once Logan recovered from the horrible pun and Patton settled his giggles, the pair just smiled at each other.

Logan had never smiled so often, before Patton had entered his life.

But as he stared at him, Logan couldn’t help noting how different his caretaker looked without the glasses on, almost as though frames had belonged on his face from the start. “You should keep them,” he burst out, gesturing to the frames in the bot’s lap, “It’s not like they were doing any good, wherever they were when you found them.”

Patton blinked at him in surprise, “Are you sure?”

He gave a one shouldered shrug, “Yeah, I mean, I’m not going to use them.”

“Thanks, Lo,” the android gave him another brilliant smile, warming him in a way he was still growing used to. He watched fondly as Patton returned the frames to his face, dramatically pushing them up the bridge of his nose.

Logan may not be certain about everything, especially not when it came to his android, but he was positive that Patton was the most amazing _person_ he had ever met. He did not know how he had developed such obvious independence or if all androids were capable of doing so, but he was incredibly grateful to have him in his life. Puns and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the last scene seems a little tacked on, and I almost didn't include it but I wanted to limit this installment to three chapters and it REALLY doesn't fit with the next one. Speaking of... brace for angst. (I still need Patton to deviate, after all. He's only bending his programming at the moment, kinda like snarky Connor in the game. He still needs to tear down the wall, so to speak.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!!


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